


butterfly on a board

by kurooos



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Blood, Impalement, M/M, Mild Gore, Misuse of Materia (Compilation of FFVII), Non-Explicit Sex, Partial Mind Control, Stabbing, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurooos/pseuds/kurooos
Summary: The sharp, curved end of Masamune hums a hair’s breadth away from his nose and Cloud freezes.The vulnerability finally hits him, sprawled out on his back like this, barely even able to lift his head. Cloud grits his teeth, looking up the cold steel of Masamune to meet it’s master’s eyes.Sephiroth’s small grin screams his victory.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 9
Kudos: 180





	butterfly on a board

**Author's Note:**

> towards the very very end of the remake seph uses this sort of magic to keep cloud pinned down and then points masamune right in his face and i immediately got horny about it so i wrote a quick little divergence for that scene
> 
> what if tifa and aerith werent there? what if the destruction stopped for a few minutes? this is the result of that. for those that need a little visual aid, [this link](https://youtu.be/ukhkeMLHzg4?t=498) will take you to the specific scene im talking about!

When Sephiroth launches himself back to give them distance, Cloud’s first instinct is to chase. That’s always been their game. Cat and Mouse. Back and Forth. Push and Pull. But something makes him hesitate, just a beat. That beat ends up costing him.

Sephiroth almost glows as he charges up for _something_ , and Cloud braces for another high level elemental spell. Instead, Sephiroth unfolds with a burst of energy, a large, elegant black wing emerging from his back. 

His mind _rings_ for a second. Memories of a man in red, his own black wing, a monster, degenerating. Cloud shakes the false memory away. But that’s just enough to let his guard down. He has just enough time to watch a violet glow of a spell in Sephiroth's hand before it’s hurtling towards him, too fast to dodge. 

The concrete slams into his back and he somehow manages to keep from bashing his head on it. But that doesn’t seem to be his biggest problem. Instead, when he tries to immediately get back up and brace himself for Sephiroth’s attack, his body doesn’t move. 

He doesn’t even have the time to be confused, watching his empty hand curl and pull against the gravity holding him in place. Before he can think of how to get out of this, Sephiroth is on him. The sharp, curved end of Masamune hums a hair’s breadth away from his nose and Cloud freezes. 

The vulnerability finally hits him, sprawled out on his back like this, barely even able to lift his head. Cloud grits his teeth, looking up the cold steel of Masamune to meet it’s master’s eyes. 

Sephiroth’s small grin screams his victory, bright eyes watching him with an excited hunger that shocks Cloud’s fight or flight response. But he can’t do anything about it _now_ , nothing but useless squirming until the spell wears off. 

There’s a dozen questions burning in his head and not a single one makes itself known. Because he knows as soon as he speaks, it’s an open door to let Sephiroth speak too. He could do it any time, but fights like this are charged with something different, where words are also a weapon. 

And right now, Cloud has none. 

Sephiroth’s free hand brushes back his coat as he steps closer to Cloud. His boots settle on either side of Cloud’s waist and it’s almost funny how something so simple brings with the feeling of entrapment. 

Sephiroth grins down at him before twirling Masamune above him, a flashy show of strength before the tip hones in on him again and then _thrusts_. Cloud gets a split second of dread before the thin steel pierces straight through his chest. 

His mind rings again, another memory not his own, wrong wrong wrong, flashes like an afterthought. Of being suspended in the air with Masamune in the same place. Both in his past and in a time too far off to grasp.

Cloud can taste the sour burn of blood in his mouth before he coughs. That warmth lands on his lips and he desperately tries to call for a cura, his sword is still in his hand and the materia equipped in it to his disposal. But nothing happens, no rush of warm healing. 

Sephiroth chuckles above him, hand still on the handle of Masamune, low at the height of his waist and Cloud’s mind bends for a second, confused. He only understands why when he realizes that Masamune is too _short_. No, that’s wrong. It’s not shorter now. Instead, the other half of the blade is wedged into the concrete under him. 

“Hush now,” Sephiroth says, and the racing thoughts in Cloud’s head dissolve. For a moment Cloud doesn’t really know what he’s doing or who he is. All he can see are the dark swirling clouds above and the tall reach of Masamune pinning him to the ground like a butterfly on a board. 

Sephiroth is talking again, praising him? But Cloud doesn’t hear it, too heavy under his own haze and stilted panicked breaths. He can feel his body cough again, chest stuttering as he struggles to take in air, but it’s all underwater. Dull and muffled and _cold_. 

Cloud can recognize the warmth of a cure, settling in at all the places he didn’t think hurt so bad. His first breath is painful, and his eyes meet the point where Masamune is still in his chest. It’s easy to see from this point Sephiroth near his feet, too, a glow of green fading from his fingertips where he’s pulling Cloud’s pants off. 

“There you are. Did your previous fight wear you out so much you couldn’t handle this?” 

Cloud feels his moan rather than hears it. He’s still trying to wrap his head around this. Trying to shake away the confusion that blankets him in fog. His hands move up to his head, holding tight like it could stop the throbbing. He doesn’t realize he’s able to move until his body rocks and the blade in his chest cuts. 

A weak noise bubbles out of his throat as he looks down. He’s trying to piece it all together, trying to actually see Sephiroth and even that is hard. He shakes his head again, growing frustrated with why he can’t just, _concentrate._

It’s like a record skip. Cloud can see what’s happening, his legs parted around Sephiroth’s waist, the man’s hips rocking against him. It’s so obvious, and Cloud can’t put two and two together to _name_ it. He watches it, over and over and over. 

Pleasure arcs bright in his hips, racing up the curve of his spine before it’s interrupted by the sharp pain running him through. There’s an awkward back and forth of Cloud’s moans breaking halfway into cries of pain when Sephiroth shoves him a little too hard and he can feel his body slicing itself on Masamune from the movement.

That stifling inability to breathe makes him cough again, blood back in his throat as he gasps uselessly. Sephiroth thrusts into him again, either ignoring his struggle or not noticing. Cloud _knows_ it’s the former. The edges of his vision get hazy and Cloud squeezes his eyes shut against the pleasure-pain electricity that fills him. 

He starts to drift again, where the pain starts to go away, and he can hardly feel Sephiroth fucking him. Cloud bitterly thinks about how his mother used to put out candles in their house, a tiny metal dome cupped over top of the flame, snuffing out it’s oxygen until it went out. 

The warmth of a cura washes over him again, and Cloud gasps, the world coming back to him in sharp clarity. It has to be high level, a regen or even a curaga. Cloud doesn’t know just how bad he’s getting when Sephiroth decides to heal him. 

It’s like this that he has to face the facts. That Sephiroth _is_ indeed the one healing him. That Sephiroth is fucking him, using him. He wants to be disgusted with this, wants to be mad and fight and kick and scream, but there’s something heavy in between his ears that makes him complacent enough. 

Cloud flinches when he meets Sephiroth’s eyes again. They’re glowing, much brighter than the normal burn of mako enhancements. Cloud watches his own view of the world flicker, grow fuzzy and green-tinted before snapping back into focus. He turns his head to the side, biting down another noise when Sephiroth thrusts into him harder. 

“I can feel you struggling, fighting me still,” Sephiroth purrs in amusement, sliding a hand up Cloud’s waist, “it’s futile. Why not enjoy yourself?” 

The wandering fingertips edge around the blood soaked fabric that frames Masamune. Cloud feels enamored, watching those slender, pale fingertips run up the flat of the blade, smearing his blood against the metal. 

Cloud knows he can’t actually feel that touch, but it’s like Masamune is now part of him, and the vibration from Sephiroth’s touch makes his gut clench. He manages to move one hand and grab at Sephiroth’s wrist, pulling it away from the blade. His fingers grip tighter with another thrust, Sephiroth’s hips slamming into him like a punishment. 

The same time Cloud yells, he feels the warmth of a cure again, stemming the bleeding at his chest, temporarily allowing him a full, clean breath of air.

All of a sudden the relief scares him. He doesn’t know how long this is going to last. How long does Sephiroth plan to keep curing him over and over? 

Sephiroth’s hands move again, easing out of Cloud’s grip like it’s nothing and grabbing the tops of his thighs. Cloud can see the motion he has planned in his head like a vivid picture, a hard pull, Masamune slicing him up to his throat. 

“ _Dont_ -!” He kicks out with his foot. He’s not thinking about how he can get away, just that he could possibly push Sephiroth away instead. He makes the mistake of meeting the man’s eyes again, wild and bright. _Excited_.

A chill raises the hairs at the back of his neck. He shakes his head, wordlessly pleading, even though he _knows_ it’s pointless. Sephiroth has never listened to him before. Why would he now? 

There’s a half second where Cloud feels Sephiroth’s grip on him tighten, where he can take a clipped gasp and brace himself for the pain. When Sephiroth pulls him into his next thrust, Cloud doesn’t even feel the stretch of his cock. Pain shoots into his fingertips and into his jaw so bright his ears ring. 

He’s distantly aware of the fast rush of blood warming his own chest, Masamune now stuck out of his right shoulder. He can’t breathe, and he can’t even scream, not enough air and quickly not enough energy. He can feel his body getting cold, vision getting dark again. 

Cloud doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes again, or how long he’s been passed out. Dead? Is he…? It doesn’t last long, a surge of electricity jerking him awake. He shoots up with a gasp, hands flying to his chest even though--

Cloud stumbles to his feet with gasping breaths, looking over himself. His hands are shaking from the adrenaline of the revival. And doesn’t that feel nauseating, that he knows what a revival spell feels like now. His front is a little sticky with blood, a clearly visible hole in his top from where he had been pierced through, but he’s completely dressed. 

His eyes flit across the distance to find Sephiroth standing there with a small uptick to his mouth and a dripping red Masamune in his hand. He flicks it to the side, Cloud's blood splattering across the concrete in a curve. Cloud can’t help but shudder.

“You-” he stops with another shudder, cringing at the wet sensation of something warm trickling down the inside of his thigh. His whole body feels cold as he realizes what it is. He almost doesn’t believe it, staring at Sephiroth like he might give him an answer. 

Neither of them get another word in, and Cloud doesn’t get the chance to sort everything out. Suddenly his name is being called from behind the rubble and Tifa and Aerith appear at his side, both ready to fight, keeping Sephiroth in their sights. 

“Cloud! Are you okay?” 

“I-” Sephiroth’s smile grows as he stares him down. Cloud can’t stop looking at the arc of blood seperating them. He takes a deep breath, finally, _finally_ , and gives a quick, short nod and a hum. 

Reaching back for his own sword, he prepares to finish this. No mess ups this time. And if he’s overly cautious in avoiding Masamune, well, that’s between him and Sephiroth.

**Author's Note:**

> no i did not proof/beta this, and no i will not do it, yes i am aware this is messy, shhhhh 
> 
> kudos to you if you noticed the little refs i had for crisis core and advent children, i just like fucking with cloud and his mess of memories that arent all his ;)
> 
> thank you for reading, as always! i've got more remake centered fics on the way so keep an eye out for them!
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kuroooos) here! <3


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